


Be Thou My Vision

by TheLastNero



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Angst, Begging, Blasphemy, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry Potter, Consent Issues, Corruption, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, M/M, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rough Sex, Smut, Teasing, Top Tom Riddle, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26234557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastNero/pseuds/TheLastNero
Summary: A great war rages between the holy Kingdom of Light and the blasphemous Kingdom of Darkness. One night, Harry has a vision, apparently sent from God himself, of how to end this war, once and for all. Never did he expect any of the temptations that would appear along the way, however, specifically those in the form of holy brother Tom Riddle.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 19
Kudos: 206
Collections: Tomarry Reverse Big Bang 2020





	1. The Vision

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the beautiful art by Tianshi. https://tengokua.tumblr.com/post/628575614569463808/though-this-isnt-finished-completely-and-there  
> I also took some inspiration from the Irish-Christian hymn "Be Thou My Vision." It's a beautiful song, and I got it stuck in my head a few times while writing this. Feel free to look up a cover on youtube. I have the English lyrics scattered throughout this fic.
> 
> I had a ton of fun writing this, even when the wordcount got out of control, lol. It's finished with all chapters prewritten, at around 20k words, and I'll be gradually uploading them throughout the Big Bang week. 
> 
> This story's main religion took heavy inspiration from Catholicism, but takes place in an alternate universe where an unnamed religion is the norm. I tried to be balanced and provide multiple viewpoints on religion as a whole rather than be pedantic and grandstand about anything. Regardless, the point of this is some good old-fashioned Tomarry more than anything and I hope y'all enjoy it. :' )

He decided he would sing one last hymn with the choir before he left.

Harry didn’t know when he’d be back, if ever. His heart weighed heavy in his chest at that fact. For every day as long as he could remember, he’d thanked the church for taking him in when no one else would. If not for the kindness of those holy men and women of God, he’d be but another orphan on the streets, hungry, illiterate, and ignorant of the holy scripture.

There would be no difference between him and those hailing from the Kingdom of Darkness itself. It was a terrifying thought, to say the least. When he was young, the reality of how close he’d been to blasphemy had never struck him. Today, however, it was painfully clear, and it made him all the more grateful he had never fallen down that rabbit-hole. The church had saved him in more ways than one, and now, it was his duty to help save the church in return. 

The song he had chosen to be his last rang especially true in his heart that particular morning. Rain pattered against the dull stained-glass windows of the church, and the organ’s cries echoed against the stone walls. Harry stood side by side with the same people he’d sang with for what seemed like forever and sang.

_“Be thou my vision, O lord of my heart;_

_Be all else but naught to me, save that thou art;_

_Be thou my best thought in the day and the night,_

_Both waking and sleeping, thy presence my light.”_

He hadn’t yet told anyone that he was leaving, nor why. The remainder of the hymn’s words came so naturally to him, he needn’t spare a single thought to continue singing it. Instead, he debated what his final words to them might be.

As the song closed, he had made his decision. Harry would leave a note, assuring his safety, but not daring to go into detail. To do so would be too prideful. After all, who but the most egotistical would ever claim and brag that they had been sent a vision by God himself?

At least, that is what Harry told himself as he made his way over to the pews once the song finished. He ignored the nagging voice at the back of his head that asked whether he was more afraid of being called prideful, or of simply being called a liar.

* * *

No one knew how long the holy war had been raging. Sometimes it seemed as though it had existed since the dawn of time, an eternal struggle of light against dark, of good against evil, and of religion against heresy. It had taken his parents’ lives, seventeen years ago, and orphaned thousands of other children as well.

He hadn’t understood as a child, and he wasn’t quite sure he understood even now why it went on. Growing up in the church, the nuns had told him and the other children stories of what happened in the godless Kingdom of Darkness. There, the Kingdom of Light’s holy religion was nowhere to be found. Not even in the shadows was the light hidden, for the entire kingdom never saw any semblance of God. God’s word had been eradicated entirely, and the Kingdom of Darkness would not rest until it had been eradicated from the entire world.

Why they couldn’t just keep to themselves, rather than try to force their ideals, or lack thereof, on the entire world, Harry couldn’t understand. He’d found such peace through the church, and he couldn’t imagine in a million years why one might hate it as much as they did.

It had felt hopeless at times, as much as Harry’s faith demanded he put his complete and utter faith in the will of God. The few times as a child he had expressed his concern to anyone in the church, whether it was the Reverend Mother who oversaw the nuns, or one of the priests who led their daily prayer, he’d been scolded, and rightfully so. The struggle was meant to strengthen the Kingdom of Light’s resolve, a test to prove that humanity was worth saving in the eyes of the Lord. God had created both the Kingdom of Light and the Kingdom of Darkness, after all, knowing they would be at odds. Everything was just as it was intended from the beginning.

It hurt to think that so many people had suffered for so long as a result of the war, but Harry reminded himself that it would all end someday. His parents’ deaths, as well as the deaths of so many others, would one day be avenged, without any wrath but pure, divine justice. And then, the years of suffering would be followed by centuries of peace, as the holy scripture promised.

And indeed, several years ago, it began to appear as though the Kingdom of Light was finally nearing victory. The Kingdom of Darkness had taken heavy losses. Its major cities had been captured, its standing army was a fraction of its original size, and many of its own citizens had converted to the holy religion. King Grindelwald was in hiding, for fear of imprisonment, and his most ardent supporters had also slipped into the shadows. Numerous bounties had been placed on the heads of his most infamous followers, though not all were known by name. However, under King Dumbledore’s decree, anyone suspected of consorting with a heretic, or of being one, was to be investigated.

The holy war seemed to be drawing to a close. One year ago, King Dumbledore called for a massive celebration in the holy city of Hogwarts, and even Harry’s small village of Godric’s Hollow attended. Thousands from all over the Kingdom of Light had gathered in the city courtyard, Dumbledore at the front, about to present a rallying speech. Once the crowd had finally hushed, he began to speak.

But not a sentence had left his lips before an emerald portal swirled above him, and the face of a demon appeared within it: Grindelwald himself.

The silence turned into shrieks, joy into shock, relief into fear. As many made to escape, a magical barrier emerged around the courtyard, corralling the celebration’s attendants like cattle. A shock of green flames shot out of the portal and toward Dumbledore. The man fell to the floor, body bound in illusory, magical rope.

Grindelwald had a few words of his own that he desired to speak. Grave words indeed, as it so happened.

“We will not be forgotten,” he’d said, louder than any scream in the crowd. “You believe you have won, in conquering our homeland, but that which remains on the physical plane matters to us no more. Though the same may not be said of the so-proclaimed ‘Kingdom of Light.’

“If you inspect any place of worship throughout the land, you will find all relics of light they may have guarded to have vanished without a trace. Our hands have been forced, and these relics will remain hidden with us until our demands have been met. I appear today so that those in power may not merely hide this information from the masses. If our demands are not met, all relics sacred to your God will be destroyed.”

Whispers and gasps emerged from the crowd, and Harry all too vividly remembers the emotions that ran through him that day like it was yesterday. 

Shock. Disbelief. Rage. Just when the war had almost been over, the Kingdom of Darkness continued to cling to survival, through any underhanded trick they could. They had no honor, no integrity, and nothing was sacred to them it seemed.

“We demand--” Grindelwald started, but was unable to finish. 

King Dumbledore ripped free of his magical bondage and with a wave of his hands, Grindelwald’s portal shattered like shards of glass and dissolved into the air. All traces of Grindelwald’s magic, including the barrier, disappeared from the city courtyard. 

He waited for the panic to die down before addressing his audience.

“Please forgive me for my flagrant use of magic just now, good people of this holy kingdom, and be not alarmed. Though a new trial has emerged, the end of this era is quickly approaching. The end of the era of war and blasphemy is written in the stars, and not even the Kingdom of Darkness’ foul treachery can prolong its existence now. Never shall we give in to anything their wicked minds may devise, nor will they destroy that which is dear and revered by us.

“Let it be known, whether or not they choose to listen, that we will never bow. Let God lead us ever onward and to find what they have stolen.”

* * *

The nightmares began as soon as he returned home, the night following both Dumbledore and Grindelwald’s speech. Terrors, they were, tormenting Harry during both sleep and wake alike. They startled him awake sometimes, leaving him afraid to fall asleep once more. Instead, he turned to prayer and meditation whilst the rest of the clergy slept. He could stay awake for days on end until nearly mad with exhaustion, before finally collapsing into another nightmare once more.

The contents of the dreams were always the same. Dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands of different scenes flashed through his vision, all images of what might happen if the Kingdom of Darkness were to take over the land. He saw the grand cathedral which had stood in the Kingdom of Light since the beginning of civilization, with its sturdy stone walls, melt like lava and flood the streets of Hogwarts, carrying its citizens to their doom and wreaking havoc upon their homes. The sky turned an ugly green, the clouds black like the thickest smoke. Blood rained down from the heavens, as if a sign that the Lord himself had vacated them and something much fouler had taken up residence there instead. And then, he saw the same church he was sleeping in at that very moment caught in flames, the vast double-doors chained closed from the opposite side with everyone trapped within. The Harry within his dreams pounded and pounded at the doors, until finally falling to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He prostrated himself on the floor, hands clasped together, praying and praying for it all to end, for God to be as good as he knew he was, and for this only to be a dream.

Because God help him if it wasn’t.

Yet even when he woke again, feverish and sweaty in his bed, he couldn’t dispel the fear sowed in his heart by the nightmares. The devil was a deft gardener, with doubt his heretical fruit. No longer did Harry find solace in his daily prayers the way he normally would. Instead, he began to feel as though God was withdrawing from him. The less he felt God’s light, the more he prayed and the more despair and a sense of abandonment swelled in his chest.

For one year, he’d been a dead man walking, only sleeping when he couldn’t bear to stand any longer. Such was the case tonight, him ready to pass out in slumber once more, expectant of the same nightmare that had plagued him for so long. Instead, a different vision altogether visited him.

His mind blurred at first. He was walking, slow and deliberate. Darkness surrounded him on all sides, and something coarse slipped underneath his bare feet. Dirt? His feet continued to move until finally, some color began to seep through the darkness. A green shimmer flickered back and forth, and Harry racked his brain to remember what it reminded him of-- like calm waves lapping against a stone.

A mist illuminated the black waters of a lake. As Harry’s eyes began to adjust to the darkness, shadows took shape and revealed his surroundings further. Mineral stalactites hung from above, framing his path through what he now realised was a cave. Before him stood a stone basin with water collected in its crevasse. Harry took a step forward to take a closer look.

Laying at the bottom of the basin was a golden locket. In the dull darkness, it appeared a pinnacle of light, shining and resolute. Emeralds in the shape of an ‘S’ embellished its center, placed in an amber setting. 

A surge of realisation came over Harry, and his hand reached out to grasp at the locket. Just as his fingers grazed it, however, his body jolted awake. He opened his eyes and sat upright in his bed, gasping. 

Saint Slytherin’s locket. He’d know it anywhere when he saw it, as any devout worshipper would.

* * *

And so, Harry hastened for Hogwarts the next day morning, with little planning and operating on sheer faith. He feared if he took time to ponder the how’s and why's of his vision, he’d ignore his instincts that were screaming desperately that this dream was a sign. The church in Hogwarts needed to know, perhaps even King Dumbledore himself. If this vision was in any way true, and a message from God, trying to help the Kingdom of Light recover one of its holy artifacts, he had to act soon. Already a year had passed since King Grindelwald’s threat, and the time would keep on ticking by until he finally chose to uphold it.

It was a day’s journey by foot to Hogwarts. By the time Harry arrived, he was exhausted. Still, he pressed on to the grand cathedral, rather than resting at an inn. An evening congregation was just letting out, and Harry pushed his way through those exiting until he reached someone who appeared to be of some authority. He wore the black and red robe of a bishop, with chin-length black hair and a hooked nose.

“Please, your excellency, I must speak to someone. It is of the utmost importance,” Harry said breathlessly. 

“But of course,” he drawled. “Let me fetch King Dumbledore with much haste.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Could you really?”

The bishop gave an exasperated sigh. “It was a jest, boy. I’d expected the youth to be quite familiar with such a phenomenon, but it seems I have overestimated their intelligence once again. If your matter is of such importance, perhaps you might truly need to seek an audience with the king. I have heard the next open appointment is within the fortnight.”

A woman of the cloth, old in face and blue of eye spoke from beside him. “Bishop Snape, it is too late in the hour for such impatience. Allow him a moment to speak before sending him off so quickly.”

Harry bowed his head softly toward the woman. “Thank you.”

“Yes, well, please come in and shut the door behind you, lest you let the night’s chill in.” 

She beckoned for him to come in, and he did as she asked. The door closed with an echo behind him, and the woman led him further into the cathedral, her shoes clacking on the marble floor. Candles illuminated their path, whether on the floor, in candelabras, or chandeliers. Moonlight rained in through the stained glass windows several stories above. A few people, both clergy and commoner, lingered in the cathedral, chatting quietly among themselves. Harry could sense some glance in his direction, but go back to their own affairs almost as quickly.

“What troubles you, young man? Do you seek confession?”

“No, madam, though...” he trailed off and began to mutter. “I do fear you’ll mistake me a sinner or a heathen for what I must tell you.” He paused, struggling to word his intentions correctly. “I have travelled a day’s distance to inform the holy crusade of a vision I have seen.”

“A heathen indeed,” said Bishop Snape, shaking his head. “I fear I must retire for the evening. You may take care of him, Reverend Mother McGonagall.” With that said, he swerved and disappeared down a hall, his black robes making him look much like a bat fleeing into its cave.

Harry felt the air leave his body like he’d been punched in the gut. He gaped at the bishop and looked back at the reverend mother, who was pursing her lips.

“Go on,” she said, and Harry, so hurried previously in his endeavor to reach Hogwarts, began to question whether or not he would even be taken seriously.

It began to dawn on him that he was probably going sound raving mad. A prophet hadn’t appeared in hundreds of years. Why today? Why not before the Kingdom of Darkness even stole the artifacts?

Worse yet, though he didn’t want to question his own mind nor his faith, what was so special about him to warrant receiving a direct message from the Lord himself? _Was_ he actually crazy?

No, it couldn’t be. Not after so many nightmares over so many weeks. It had to have happened that way for a reason, he knew it in his heart of hearts. God had left Harry in the shade of his presence for so long to make _sure_ he absolutely paid attention when he would send him that vision.

He took a deep breath. “I saw one of the missing holy artifacts-- in a dream. It was in a cave.”

Reverend Mother McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “A cave? Whither about?”

“I… don’t know where exactly?” His words sounded more like a question than a complete statement, and he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck.

“You don’t know where,” she repeated back at him.

Admittedly, it was not convenient how little he had actually seen in his dream. There must have been some identifying information, however. “It was Saint Salazar’s locket! In a basin, filled with water. And the cave, it had this green mist of a sort?”

The reverend mother opened her mouth, and Harry sensed an interruption coming, so he continued to speak hurriedly. 

“And there was a lake in the cave too! But it was all really dark, so I didn’t get to see all that much. Er-- perhaps the Lord will send me another dream tonight, in greater detail, so we can better discern the locket’s whereabouts. And--”

Finally, she raised her hand to stop him. “That’s quite enough, dear child.” She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I understand the fear that you must feel within you during these dark times. But you must remember that fear is the tool of the devil, not the Lord. It is not he who utilizes such tools, for he has no need. Perhaps you as a pious citizen feel you must help the holy war in some manner and have imagined such a vision, but a vision born of fear is not of God’s making.”

Harry felt a pang in his heart, and frustration peaked within him. He wanted to say no, that wasn’t right, he _knew_ the dream was divine in origin, but he couldn’t disrespect the reverend mother so blatantly.

“I understand.” Still, it was hard to prevent the disappointment from seeping through his words.

Her eyes softened, though Harry feared it was due to pity rather than sympathy. “Perhaps, if you wish to aid the Kingdom of Light, you may join the crusade. King Dumbledore’s army is always seeking passionate, able-bodied young men, especially if you have any magical ability. You are also not too old to take oaths to the church, if you so desire.”

“I’ll think about it. Thank you, Revered Mother.”

“Very good.” She nodded approvingly toward him and removed her hand. “You may seek shelter within the cathedral for the night, if you require a place to sleep.” It was then she began looking over his shoulder and called out to someone. “Brother Riddle-- please come here for a moment.”

He turned to find a young man roughly his own age approaching. He wore black robes with a white, knotted belt, and as he neared, Harry noticed his wavy hair to be almost as dark as his own.

“Yes, Revered Mother?” His voice was smooth and gentle on Harry’s ears.

“Please escort this boy to the communal quarters. You may also turn in for the night as well,” she said.

The brother nodded. “As you wish. Come.” He waved Harry toward him.

Harry couldn’t help but stare down at his feet as he followed Brother Riddle to the cathedral’s living quarters, conflicting emotions stirring in his gut. What now? Admittedly, the contents of his vision weren’t much to go on by themselves, but perhaps he’d receive another dream again tonight. Or was placing such hope in a dream folly at best just as the revered mother had told him, and the devil’s machinations at worst?

Was he better off simply joining the army, or officially taking vows? He’d spent so much time living in the church already, but had never undergone any formal membership. Perhaps he was intended to receive this 

“‘It is He who reveals the profound and hidden things. He knows what is in the darkness, and the light dwells with Him.’”

Harry startled and stopped where he stood. “What?”

Brother Riddle smiled slightly and turned to look at Harry. “That is what I always say to my brothers who look too deep in thought for their own good.” His eyes looked almost black, until a flash from the candlelight dancing off the walls revealed them to be brown.

Harry didn’t know how to respond. “I hate to say it, but I don’t feel as though I’ve been rewarded for my faith as of late.” He finished with a sigh.

The brother exhaled some air through his nose in amusement. “And never should you expect to be. Faith itself should be intrinsically valuable, not externally. Though I take it you are referring to the reason you’re here today, rather than any deep-seated belief of yours.” 

His eyes bore into Harry’s as if looking through his soul. 

It sent a cold shiver down Harry’s spine, and his face flushed with embarrassment. “I don’t suppose you overheard our conversation, did you?”

“I did,” said Brother Riddle, eyelids lowered. 

He turned to face forward and began walking once more, with Harry trailing behind him. After turning into a new hallway and making their way to its end, Brother Riddle finally turned and stopped in front of a door.

Brother Riddle turned and gave him an appraising look, as if searching his face for something. “May I ask your name?”

“Harry-- just Harry,” he said softly and paused. “Do you think I’m crazy too? Or… being misled by the devil, or something of the sort?” 

The brother’s soft smile widened into something Harry might dare call a smirk. 

“It’s curious that you should be asking me that, rather than taking the revered mother at her word,” he said innocently enough, but it sent a burst of panic through Harry nonetheless.

“I--”

“But what I find even more queer--” Brother Riddle began with a frown this time, looking past Harry, as if deep in thought-- “Is that I myself recall in the days of my youth playing in such a cave as the one you spoke of. Perhaps it’s mere coincidence that they should sound so similar in description… Or perhaps it’s fate that we should happen to meet this very night.”

Surprise replaced Harry’s panic, and all his other negative emotions and thoughts built up since the morning seemed to halt as well. Just when he thought he might be wrong, that perhaps it really hadn’t been a vision from God, he just happened to meet someone who could possibly confirm its truth.

He couldn’t help but sigh in relief, a weak laugh escaping his mouth. “Very queer indeed, that is. I wonder if it demands some investigation, perhaps,” he quipped, as if they were sharing an inside joke. The anxiety and fear he’d felt moments before felt like a jest almost as bad as the bishop’s.

“Perhaps.” Brother Riddle grinned. “What say I fetch you in the morning, and we investigate ourselves? I fear we may not obtain approval might we ask for more men, but if we leave early enough, I may return in time for my duties.”

“I say let not even the Kingdom of Darkness stop us,” Harry laughs again.

Brother Riddle then opened the door to the cathedral’s sleeping quarters, and Harry fell into a spare bed. For once in a very long time, he did not dream of anything that night.


	2. The Cave

Harry was kneeling by his bed praying when Brother Riddle came for him the next morning, just as the sun had begun to rise. The latter crouched beside the former silently, placing a firm hand on his shoulder to signal his presence. When Harry opened his eyes, Brother Riddle held a hand out to him, lifting him to his feet.

“Are you prepared? It is not a far trip from Hogwarts, only just outside the city walls by the beach,” said the brother.

“I didn’t exactly come here with anything more than the clothes on my back, so I’m prepared as I’ll ever be.”

“A more modest existence than many in the church could claim, at least,” Brother Riddle noted. “Follow me, and try to stay quiet. Many are still sleeping.”

They slipped out of the grand cathedral through a side door that Brother Riddle locked behind them, and soon enough found themselves on the other side of the city walls. The two followed the main road down toward the sea, past the docks, until they were following the coastline, sand beneath their shoes.

A thought occurred to Harry, and soon he was voicing it. “Do you think it will be safe?”

“We’re rather close to Hogwarts, still. I suppose if we encountered trouble, it would be easy enough to call for help. The real question, however, is what defense mechanisms might be in place, rather than who would be guarding the cave.”

A part of Harry appreciated that Brother Riddle wasn’t even acknowledging that there was the very real possibility nothing would be there to begin with. Another part felt guilty, for the very same possibility of wasting the brother’s time.

“Something magical, knowing the Kingdom of Darkness, most likely,” Harry muttered to himself.

“They do seem to have quite the penchant for it, don’t they? Though they do not monopolize magical talent, as evidenced by King Dumbledore and myself. I have full faith I can handle whatever traps or barriers may lie ahead of us today.”

“Quite prideful to compare yourself to the king, brother.” Despite the harshness of his words, Harry couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

Though Brother Riddle’s expression remained lighthearted, his words took on a more serious tone. “There are times for humility, Harry, but those times are not now. Not when so much is at stake.”

Harry thought about his words for a moment, listening to the sounds of the waves crash against the shore as they continued on. “I too have some magical ability, though I’ve never had much chance to practice it.”

“Many never do, for the impropriety and stigma around such acts. It is a shame too, for all the good magic can do for the world,” Brother Riddle said, stopping in his tracks. “But there are many things that take precedence in importance at the moment, such as our current affair.” He nodded to the side. “Here it is, speaking of which.”

In front of them, almost hidden away behind the brush and trees, was the mouth of a cave against the face of a cliff. Just standing outside it caused Harry’s heart to beat faster in anticipation. This was it.

“I’ll go first and lead us toward where the lake was. Then you may look around to see if it matches your vision,” said Brother Riddle.

Harry nodded in assent and followed after him as he ducked into the cave. Inside, it was much cooler in temperature than on the beach, quiet all but for the shushing tide behind them, the persistent dripping of moisture from the ceiling, and the crunch of their shoes on the dirt floor. As they delved deeper, the sunlight from the entrance began to fade.

Suddenly, Brother Riddle stopped in front of him, causing Harry to run into his solid back. 

“Sorry--”

But the brother wasn’t paying attention, instead fishing an object out of his robe pockets. When Harry squinted his eyes, he discerned it was a peculiar-looking wooden stick with what looked like a carved handle. Brother Riddle waved it, and the tip illuminated, bathing their surroundings with light. 

Harry couldn’t help but gasp, both at the unexpected use of magic and the sheer beauty of the phenomenon. Such a thing was mostly only done in private and not discussed in polite company, and therefore the times he’d actually seen magic performed were scarce in number. Though looking at the magic lighting their way now, it seemed almost a shame. His face heated at the thought.

“Forgive me, Harry, but I fear we won’t be able to see anything the further we go.” 

Harry nodded, hoping the blush on his face wasn’t as visible as it felt. “It’s fine, brother,” he said. 

“It is only the two of us, after all,” Brother Riddle added with a soft smile. “And such a thing should be fine among friends, don’t you think?”

Logically, Harry found himself agreeing, despite the feeling that those who raised him, or even the church in general, might disapprove. Regardless, Brother Riddle’s magic was an asset to them right now, despite the loosened propriety.

In the end, he simply nodded. 

Brother Riddle smiled. “You can call me Tom, if you like-- my given name. Since I’ve taken vows, it’s been a long time since I’ve last heard it.”

“If you so wish it,” said Harry, before finishing pointedly. “Then I suppose I will, Tom.”

“Hearing it from you almost makes me homesick,” Tom said fondly, dark eyes alight. “But I can reminisce some other time. Let us continue on.”

They continued on until reaching a wall a few meters ahead of them. It seemed to be a dead end. Harry’s heart dropped.

Tom was frowning beside him. “This isn’t right. There was never a wall here before.” He held what Harry realised was a wand close to the wall, examining it with a penetrating stare. Slowly, he brought his other hand up to it, tracing a finger along one of its crevasses.

Without removing his hand, he began speaking once more. “Do you trust me, Harry?”

Harry thought that was a peculiar question. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

Tom looked at him from the sides of his eyes, under his lashes.“I think I know how to remove the seal on this wall, but I can’t do it alone. This seal demands a sacrifice of blood, but I fear my own will not work due to my involvement with the church. You, however, have taken no vows,” he said slowly. “I imagine this is how they believed they could prevent those in the Kingdom of Light’s hierarchy, whether military or religious, from getting through.”

“My… blood?”

“Just a small amount. Here--” Tom reached into his robes and retrieved a small-bladed knife and held it out to Harry.

Harry examined it for a moment, breathing a deep breath before taking it, and another deep breath before scraping the blade along the tip of his finger, where the cut gave much more blood than he would’ve imagined would fill the appendage. Quickly, he pressed it to the place Tom indicated, smearing his lifeblood across the wall’s crevasse.

The wall started rumbling, and Tom was quick to pull Harry back away from it as the stones that made it up crumbled to the floor around them.

“Thanks,” Harry said with a slight laugh.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Brother Tom said, pointing in front of him.

Harry turned. Before them lied a black lake, an emerald mist hanging in the air above it. A small ferry boat floated at the edge of the lake, a chain linked around its helm that led back to the shore. But there, in the center of the lake, was a small island of basalt rocks, a pedestal in its middle.

His heart leapt at the sight of it, a grin overtaking his face. He didn’t even have to see the locket lying in the pedestal to know it was there, with all his heart. 

Tom had picked up the chain and reeled in the boat while Harry stood in awe. Finally, he tapped his shoulder and nodded for him to get in the boat. They each took a paddle and rowed to the center island. The boat moved fluidly through the water. The lake was black enough so that they couldn’t see anything below, nor how deep the lake might have been.

Soon, they stood on the island itself. Harry stared at the locket, submerged in the basin, and reached to pick it up, just as he had seen in his dream. His hand didn’t slip through the water, like he was expecting, but bounced backward.

“Ouch--”

“Let me see,” said Tom, stepping forward to look. He frowned at the basin and poked a single finger at the water, only for the same thing to happen to him.

“Wait, what’s that?” Harry crouched to the ground and picked up what looked like an intricately carved cup. 

Experimentally, he dipped it into the basin, successfully filling it with water. However, when he tried to pour it out, as quick as a whip, the liquid lurched back to the basin, ignoring the laws of gravity. Harry quickly stepped back.

“I think one of us has to drink it.”

Harry’s head jerked toward the brother. “Drink it? But we don’t know what it is! It could be tainted with some vile substance conjured up by the Kingdom of Darkness to-- to poison us, or something of the other--”

“For that reason, I think it best that I drink it. We receive training in the church to be able to endure any attempts at possession or any powerful magic they might be able to perform,” said Tom. He placed both of his hands on Harry’s shoulders and looked him deeply in the eyes. “At least if something were to happen to me, you may still be able to retrieve the locket and be believed when you return it back. You have been chosen to receive His visions for a purpose, and I shall not spite that. Do you understand?”

“I do,” said Harry. “But… let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? It is apparent this is a trap, yes, but they have to have a method of retrieving the locket without harming themselves, when they would come back to destroy it.”

Tom smiled, something in his eyes glinting. “I suppose you’re right.” He took the cup from Harry and slowly filled it with the basin’s liquid. “Stalling won’t change what I have to do regardless.”

Before Harry could respond, Tom gulped down the liquid in one fell swoop and began coughing, fist slamming against the pedestal.

“Are you alright?”

Tom didn’t respond for a moment, clearing his throat. “Give me the rest,” he said before handing the cup back to Harry. 

Harry wondered if he didn’t think he could do it himself. In the basin, there remained enough water to fill the cup perhaps once, before he could finally reach in and grab the locket with his bare hands. He filled the cup and brought it to Tom’s lips. Tom’s eyes were closed tight, and he leaned his head back to swallow the remaining liquid as Harry fed it to him. His face grimaced, and he grit his teeth before falling to hunch his knees.

“Tom?” Harry quickly crouched beside him, clutching at his arm in case he needed to lift him up.

“Fuck, I’m thirsty,” he gasped out, with almost a hint of amusement.

Harry’s head whiplashed looking around them. Within the second, he rushed to the edge of the island with the cup to fill it with water from the lake. Normally, he knew better not to drink from random bodies of water, but they could worry about that at another time.

A chill ran down his back at that very moment. It unnerved Harry enough to cause him to completely freeze where he was.

Tom coughed a fit behind him, the sound echoing off the walls of the cave. “Not-- not the lake.”

Harry turned to send him a questioning look. “What--” He couldn’t spit out the rest of his thought, however, before something yanked his wrist, and he plunged deep into the lake.

Water flooded into his eyes, his nose, his ears, and his mouth. Harry reached upward toward the surface of the lake, arms struggling desperately in panic, but while the hand that had wrapped around his wrist fell, another grasped at his ankle, pulling him downward. His feet kicked, but another hand latched on.

In the black of the water, no light reached his eyes, and nothing was distinguishable until it came close. As he sank deeper into the lake, he’d long since closed his eyes as they’d begun to sting. What felt like another body bumped against his, renewing his struggle. He moved lethargically to wrench the hands away from his ankles, but as hard as he pulled, they just  _ wouldn’t let go _ .

His head began to feel fuzzy, and the panic, the adrenaline that’d run through his veins moments before began to fade. His limbs felt like lead, pulling him further down. Distantly, he thought he heard a crash, but that didn’t make sense, what was there to crash into but water, all he could do was sink and sink--

Then everything happened in slow-motion, but so fast that he didn’t know how much time actually passed for everything to happen. A dazzling light flew across his eyelids, and his ankle biters were shot away, and a hand wrapped itself around his waist, and suddenly he was out of the water and lying on something hard, and something soft pressed against his lips until he could finally breathe again--

Finally, he gasped and coughed and became lucid enough to realise Tom was kneeling over him, pointing his wand beyond him. Harry’s eyes flit to where he was aiming to find the surface of the lake freezing into solid sheets of ice. Quickly, he started shaking due to the change in temperature around them and his sopping wet clothes.

He didn’t have much time to recover, however, before Tom collapsed in front of him, and probably would have fallen onto the ice he’d just created if Harry hadn’t caught him by the back of his robes and pulled him backward. Tom sprawled across the island, eyes rolling toward the back of his skull in what Harry presumed was pain.

Quickly, Harry reached toward the island’s basin and retrieved the locket. He dangled it in front of his eyes and could have stared at it for hours in awe of its beauty, but Tom’s groans of pain seemed more pressing at that very moment. Harry stuffed the locket in his pocket before offering Tom a hand, to which he gladly accepted it only to lean against Harry once he stood.

As they made their way precariously across the frozen lake, Harry couldn’t help but notice the ghastly pale hands also frozen in their tracks in the lake, seemingly grasping toward the surface. Only once did Harry see what looked like a face beneath the ice. After that, he decided to keep looking forward rather than down.

Once they reached the mouth of the cave, Tom lurched forward at the sight of the sea, but Harry held him back by one arm. 

“You can’t drink seawater, Tom. The salt will kill you,” Harry breathed out. “They’re sure to have a spare canteen at the docks though.”

He laced his hands with Tom, guiding him back toward the docks where they found a group of sailors. After some requisite heckling, they tossed them a canteen, and Tom drank as though he’d never before tasted water in his life. After he finished, he rather embarrassingly made a show of standing up straight and brushing off his robes before handing the canteen back.

Harry couldn’t help but snicker at the sight. Tom gave him a disapproving look, though it held no malice whatsoever. They began making their way back into Hogwarts, and once they had a decent amount of privacy, Tom began speaking.

“I think I owe you an apology for this mess.” Tom frowned. “I hadn’t anticipated things would turn sour so quickly, nor how much that potion would affect me.”

Harry stared at Tom for a moment. “You… saved my life. And you’re apologizing?”

“In case you’ve failed to remember, I put you in that danger to begin with. Though if you insist on putting it that way, perhaps we’re even for it now.” The corners of Tom’s lips curled upward ever so slightly.

“That’s debatable,” Harry laughed. “After all, if I hadn’t received that vision, you wouldn’t have brought me there in the first place. I guess if we have anyone to blame, it’s the Lord himself. Anyway, we’ve retrieved the locket. I’m sure the church will be pleased that one of the stolen artifacts has been recovered. Perhaps since we’ve been so successful, I may receive more visions in the future that may help the holy plight.”

“Well, if I was divine, I wouldn’t see any reason not to at this point.”

Harry smiled, and the words ‘You sure are close’ rested at the tip of his tongue. They remained unspoken as they finally entered the city. The blush on his cheeks and the knowing look in Tom’s eyes, however, said enough for all they’d experienced together that day.


	3. The Passion

To say Reverend Mother McGonagall was surprised when Harry and mere Brother Tom Riddle returned with Saint Slytherin’s locket would be a slight understatement.

She apologized for not having taken Harry seriously, to which Harry good-heartedly claimed it was not necessary. They arrived back at the grand cathedral much later than expected, an hour past noon, several hours past when Tom’s duties usually began. A few others in the church were confused as to where he disappeared to, as such a thing was unusual for Brother Riddle, but none had gone looking for him.

Tom was praised for showing such initiative, though not before receiving a gentle scolding to inform someone before doing something so dangerous. After, he was told to rest and take the day off. The revered mother hurried Harry to the Bishop’s quarters, and Harry barely had time to look over his shoulder at Tom who was left behind.

Bishop Snape’s face twitched ever so slightly when he was told the news. He scrutinized the locket for several minutes under his penetrating gaze, before finally deeming it authentic with much derision in his voice.

“You may be meeting the king after all,” said the bishop. “Though let us see what one more night of sleep bestows upon you. Word will be sent to King Dumbledore so that he may prepare.”

Reverend Mother McGonagall finished for him. “For now, stay in the cathedral and come see Bishop Snape tomorrow morning. We will tell you where we will go from there. If you are hungry, lunch should just be ending in the great hall.”

And that was what led Harry to the aforementioned place, staring in awe at its sheer magnificence. The high, vaulted ceilings seemed to touch the sky, crystal chandeliers hanging from it, catching the light from the stained glass windows. A glorious fresco adorned the interior wall, artfully portraying the four saints: Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff.

At least a dozen long tables filled the room, a banquet on each. Most were only half full, and a good amount of people stood talking amongst themselves or to leave as the hour was near its end. Harry looked about the room to see if he could find Tom, but his endeavor proved fruitless. Eventually, he decided to just sit down at a random table and hope to either be ignored or respectfully tolerated.

Never before had he ever seen so much food in his life. Though he’d never starved, thanks to his local church, most rations were minimalistic, relying on the donations of others in Godric’s Hollow. The grand cathedral, however, was as grand as what seemed was requisite for the capital city’s chamber of God.

He tried very hard not to stuff his face in a gluttonous manner. After all, most in the great hall were clergy themselves who’d disavowed material sins, including gluttony. He didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb, more than he already did due to his lack of church regalia.

“You alright there, mate?” 

Evidently, he didn’t try hard enough. Quickly, he wiped his face in embarrassment and nodded to the red-headed boy sitting across the table from him. Instead of the disapproval he’d expected to see flit across his face, an amused grin appeared instead.

“There’s plenty enough for everyone. Staying here for very long?”

Harry swallowed the bite he’d taken. “I don’t know exactly.” Neither did he know if it would be a good idea to reveal what had just occurred. Most likely, it would be best to leave it to a property authority to announce that a holy artifact had been recovered. That way, it wouldn’t be him bragging. There was always the chance he wouldn’t be believed either. “If I leave, there’s a good chance I’ll be back someday though.”

“Happens to a lot of people,” continued the ginger. “Anyway, just thought I’d say hello, considering you looked alone and seem to enjoy fine food as much as I do.”

A new voice spoke from beside him. “‘ _ Whose end is destruction, whose god is their appetite, and whose glory is in their shame, who set their minds on earthly things. _ ’”

When Harry turned, he saw it came from the girl with curly brown hair and dark skin beside him.

The redheaded boy rolled his eyes and replied. “‘ _ Go then, eat your bread in happiness, and drink your wine with a cheerful heart; for God has already approved your works _ .’”

“That’s taken out of context,” she said with a huff.

“You’re taken out of context.”

Harry interrupted them incredulously. “I’ve been wondering, do you all seriously memorize every word of the holy scripture?”

The brunette shook her head. “Only ones we think are of particular importance or sentiment to ourselves. Hence why Brother Weasley might memorize a verse in defense of his own shortcomings.”

“Only because you’ve quoted that one verse at me like five times since I’ve started here,” Brother Weasley grumbled.

“I’ll keep repeating it until you learn to display some temperance. If we wish to be ordained, we should serve as an example to the common man and woman.” She nodded in Harry’s direction.

“I already hold you all in high respect and appreciate all you do for the Kingdom of Light. I need not be convinced,” he said with a laugh.

She sighed.

* * *

Harry continued chatting with Brother Weasley and the girl he eventually learned was Sister Granger until lunch came to an end and the great hall was closed until dinner. Though he enjoyed their company, the two had to return to their own duties in the church, and Harry was left alone once more to wander the cathedral. There was a certain sense of peace in its halls, its elegant architecture, and the sound of God’s word lingering throughout.

Sometime later, the sound of an organ started in the distance. Like a siren’s call, it pulled Harry toward its direction, where the sound of a choir followed. He reached the end of the hall and made his way through the propped open door, taking a seat in the pew at the front of the room. Closing his eyes, he relaxed and took in the chorus’ song.

He allowed it to surround himself as he thought about just how grateful he was for everything that had happened. From being saved and nurtured by the church, to his visions providing some hope for the end of this war, to the glimmer of new friendships he’d forged with Tom, and perhaps more at Hogwarts. Everything wasn’t right in the world yet, but it seemed as though things were on their way at least, and that was enough for Harry.

He didn’t know for how long he sat there just listening, but when he opened his eyes, he was alone. The door to the room was shut, the pews long since cleared of any other people. He stood from the pew and stepped up the stairs to the wooden pedestal and ran his hands along it. On the pedestal was an assortment of songs inked on parchment. It was easy enough to flip through them to find his favorite, and the mere title brought a smile to his face. The acoustics of this room had sounded quite good before when others had sung in it. Surely no one would mind if he used it for the same purpose while no one else was here.

Harry closed his eyes, cleared his throat, and licked his lips. Finally, he sang.

It was always such a heady sensation, the words leaving his mouth and echoing off the walls. The action made him feel completely at peace. His voice had been gifted to him at birth, yes, but his control over it had been learned over the years through trial and error. Now he could hold a note clearly and carry a tune, and people actually enjoyed listening to him back home. 

Home. While he loved the church he’d grown up in, he was surprised to find he didn’t miss it. Maybe it was too soon since he’d left, but here in Hogwarts, Harry felt pride in what he’d accomplished for the Kingdom of Light. A sinful emotion, certainly, but it was for the better of the world-- surely that made it different? Here he felt as though he was making an impact on the world that he never would have if he’d ignored the vision, if he hadn’t had faith and had just stayed home.

Lost was he in his thoughts and song when the sound of the door opening startled him, opening his eyes reflexively.

There stood a familiar face, looking almost as surprised as he felt. Tom shut the door behind him and made his way over to stand in front of Harry at the bottom of the steps.

His surprise quickly turned to an unreadable expression. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said.

Normally, Harry wouldn’t feel the least bit shy about singing in front of another, but did now in spite of himself. He settled on looking beyond Tom rather than looking straight at him.

_ “Be thou my wisdom, and thou my true word; _

_ I ever with thee and thou with me, Lord; _

_ Thou my great Father, I thy true son; _

_ Thou in me dwelling, and I with thee one.” _

At least that was the plan until his eyes began to wander and were drawn back to Tom once more without any conscious thought on Harry’s part. His face was on fire, he just knew it, but Tom sat patient and respectful, a gentle smile on his face.

_ “Be thou my battle shield, sword for the fight; _

_ Be thou my dignity, thou my delight; _

_ Thou my soul's shelter, thou my high tow’r: _

_ Raise thou me heav’nward, O pow’r of my pow’r.” _

Something in Tom’s eyes, dark and warm, just reached out to him. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to. 

_ “Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise, _

_ Thou mine inheritance, now and always: _

_ Thou and thou only, first in my heart, _

_ O Lord of Heaven, my treasure thou art.” _

Though the song was a hymn, religious in nature, meant as a message to God, it felt different than it normally did whenever Harry would sing it. It was, dare he even think it, almost as if he was singing to Tom himself. But such an idea was blasphemous. It was merely the ambiguous wording that made it sound such a way to Harry’s ears. Surely Tom wouldn’t interpret it as such, a man as devout as he was, who had dedicated his life to the church.

it didn’t help that Tom had to be so much more handsome than anyone else he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. The sight of him itself had to be some sort of sin, Harry thought. Even after enduring so much that day, his hair remained perfectly curled, his skin as smooth as ivory, his eyes deep and penetrating-- 

_ “O Lord of heaven, thou heaven's bright sun, _

_ O grant me its joys, after vict'ry is won.” _

It was an intrusive thought, one he shouldn’t have had. He wondered what type of vows Tom had sworn yet, whether chastity was required or rather optional. Did he have a chance? Dare he corrupt someone so pure?

_ “Great heart of my own heart, whatever befall, _

_ Still be thou my vision, O ruler of all.” _

No, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t have even thought about it, but now he was blushing, and the song was over, and now it was just them,  _ alone _ together.

“Absolutely beautiful.” Tom leaned his chin on his hand, gazing at Harry.

The song-- he was referring to the song. He had to be. Harry was the only one with impure thoughts in this room, the only one misunderstanding their friendship and Tom’s pure intentions.

“Thank you,” he said meekly, lowering his eyes. “It’s my favorite. I can only hope I do it justice”

Tom rose from his seat and climbed the steps, walking until he was behind Harry.

“Dear Harry, I wouldn’t be asking whether or not  _ you _ do  _ it _ justice.” He trailed a hand down Harry’s back, sending shivers down it. His voice was a soft breath against Harry’s ear. “But rather, what  _ it _ does for you.”

Just as quickly, Tom removed his hand and made his way out of the room without a single word more, leaving Harry more confused than he’d been when Tom had first entered.

* * *

When Harry went to sleep that night in the cathedral, his dreams were not quite what he expected. The first of which caused him to wake up prematurely, sheets sticking to his sweaty limbs and heat pooling in places far too inappropriate for a church.

He prayed Tom might never learn the way that Harry saw him, lest he become disgusted with him and end their friendship. Though a part of him knew that Tom would never do that. If anything, he would forgive him and perhaps use that as some sort of teaching moment. Still, he would keep his distance from Harry, and Harry, as selfish as he was, was saddened by the thought.

His second dream began much more innocently. As far as the eye could see, he saw a royal blue, refracting and glittering. Almost as if he was floating away, the blue shrunk in his field of vision until it was revealed to be a gem of some sort. His body was pulled further and further away, until white crystals, or perhaps diamonds, began to appear around the central sapphire. Further, it finally came to appear what he was looking at: Saint Ravenclaw’s Diadem.

His area of vision kept expanding backward, revealing the diadem to be laying in a case of velvet, laying inside a dresser, inside a bedroom, the third door on the left of a hallway, in a stately brick townhouse. The last thing he saw before waking in the morning was the mailbox, labeled #12, and the street sign that said  _ Grimmauld Place. _

* * *

The next morning, Harry and Bishop Snape were led out of the grand cathedral with a detachment of knights who escorted them by coach carriage to Hogwarts castle. Harry had never before traveled by carriage, let alone one as gilded and ornate as Bishop Snape’s, but by the end of the ride, he considered the experience vastly overrated. The journey was bumpy, and his attempts at making conversation with the bishop were met with a cold sneer. Eventually, he chose to endure the ride in silence. 

He didn’t have to wait long before they arrived. Hogwarts castle towered high in the sky and became bigger the closer the carriage neared until Harry could no longer see the top from his seat. As King Albus Dumbledore had no spouse or children of his own, his heir his younger brother Prince Aberforth, much of the castle had been repurposed as a school to educate the youth of Hogwarts. It was well known that their younger sister, Princess Ariana, met a tragic end due to magic in her youth, and King Dumbledore had made it his mission to absolve the land of ignorance and instead educate them so that a similar tragedy would never happen again.

Once upon a time, Harry had dreamed of coming to Hogwarts castle to learn magic. It was a fanciful idea, something selfish he wished for himself but could never bring himself to actually pursue. His place had been back in Godric’s Hollow, paying back the church for the kindness they had done him in taking him in.

Their detachment of knights brought them to the entrance of the castle, where a set of king’s guards then escorted them to the throne room. There sat King Dumbledore on his throne of purple velvet, dressed in flamboyant golden robes, a strange scarlet bird sitting on a perch to his left.

His eyes lit up behind his half-moon glasses as Harry and Bishop Snape approached. Harry quickly kneeled and bowed his head, while the Bishop remained standing.

“You may rise, my boy. And it is good to see you again, Severus,” he said. “How are you fairing as of late?”

“Adequately,” said the bishop as Harry rose back to his feet, still staring in awe. “Though as I am sure you are aware, this is not a social call.”

“Ah, yes, a matter of great importance as you so named it.” King Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled knowingly. 

“This boy here has recovered one of the artifacts stolen by the Kingdom of Darkness. He claims to have divined its location through a message from God,” he drawled, retrieving Saint Slytherin’s locket from his robes and handing it to the king. 

King Dumbledore held it up with one bony finger, examining it through his glasses. “My, and not a scratch on it.”

“Very fortuitous indeed that the Lord would choose now to make his presence known through a new prophet.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he quite liked the bishop’s tone of voice, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“I would like to speak to him alone if you would allow it, Severus.”

“By all means, may nothing stop you, your majesty.”

King Dumbledore rose from his throne, and his guards moved to follow until he raised a pacifying hand. He turned his sights to Harry, before gesturing that he follow him. Not one to say no to the king himself, Harry followed him into an adjoining room that appeared to be a study. Bookshelves lined the walls, a fireplace crackled in the corner, and a large wooden desk had numerous pieces of parchment stacked and strewn about it. Dumbledore sat at it and beckoned Harry to sit across from him.

“Harry, is it?”

He nodded. “Yes, your grace.”

The king continued. “I imagine you must have been through a lot to retrieve this artifact. Tell me about it.” 

His eyes were gentle but probing, and so Harry felt compelled to tell him everything that had happened within the last year. It was strange, hearing it voiced aloud in its entirety for the first time. He’d never before told anyone of the nightmares he’d experienced for so long, nor how they affected him. When he thought about it, however, they were an important part of why he believed that first vision so much when it occurred.

“What a trial God has put you through to bring you here today, Harry,” said King Dumbledore. “But it is life’s trials that make its small joys the greater.”

Harry nodded vigorously in agreement, an action which made King Dumbledore smile. 

“For a long time, I was so confused as to why this was happening to me. And then when the vision came, it felt as though everything made sense, that I was being rewarded for holding on for so long,” said Harry, before his voice lowered. “Then I came to the grand cathedral, and the revered mother pointed out how mad it all sounded, that perhaps it was a product of fear rather than faith. But then, Tom told me he knew where I was talking about, and we retrieved it, and everything made sense once more.”

“Tom?” The king asked, voice soft.

Harry blinked. “Brother Riddle, your majesty.”

“I see.” King Dumbledore nodded, his eyes sparkling. “Tell me, Harry, and I want you to answer from your heart, rather than your mind-- why do we believe?”

“Because… we want something to be true?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know the correct answer myself.” King Dumbledore rose from his chair and strode around his desk to peer out a window on the wall. “I believe that maybe I shall know when I, too, leave this world. That faith itself shall reward faith, and strengthen itself, not anything that may remain on this earth.” He pulled out the locket and examined it once more. “It is a great service you have done for the Kingdom of Light, retrieving one of our saint’s artifacts. These objects are all of what remains of them, beyond their memory.”

King Dumbledore walked over and set the locket on his desk where he then sat once more, where the embellished ‘S’ seemed to stare at Harry from across the room. 

“No man or woman is perfect nor purely evil, as much as we praise the saints and vilify their naysayers. Godric Gryffindor was a prideful man, as vain and wrathful as the lion which adorned his heraldry. Salazar Slytherin, his heart full of greed and envy. It was Rowena Ravenclaw’s sloth that led to her most notable accomplishments, and Helga Hufflepuff’s gluttony that led to her generous, forgiving spirit. But they all had one thing in common, one thing that can urge even those born leagues apart in both mind and body to unite in similarity.”

“Faith,” Harry said immediately.

Dumbledore smiled but a sadness tinted his expression. “Humanity oft has a tendency to fixate on what divides us, rather than what unifies us. That is why even mere objects remain important as symbols of the common man and woman, not lofty ideals that none can ever aspire to become.”

Harry swallowed. “Your majesty, I had another vision last night.”

King Dumbledore’s face still hadn’t changed. He almost seemed tired. “Then tell me of it, Harry.”

* * *

Two moons had passed since Harry and Dumbledore’s first meeting. A group of paladins had been trusted with the first mission to Grimmauld Place, where Ravenclaw’s diadem was then recovered. Harry was invited to stay in Hogwarts castle where he would remain comfortable and be able to inform the king or anyone else of a reasonable authority should he see anything new in his dreams.

He was remiss to abandon the church, and though he didn’t care to admit it, those he’d met in the grand cathedral, but the king offered one more thing that successfully pushed Harry to stay: free reign within the university library and the ability to sit-in on whatever classes he wished. 

It was a dream come true, and he quickly found himself immersed in the study of magic. Though he only practiced in private, as was the rule in Hogwarts castle, through hard work and diligent study he felt as though he was making some headway. Already, he had a wand of his own that he took great pride in. He wasn’t nearly as skilled as those who’d come to Hogwarts castle as children, but he was proud of himself for what he’d accomplished nonetheless. 

And when he went to sleep, almost every night he would find his mind’s eye filled with the sight of another stolen artifact. Like clockwork, Harry would report to one of the esteemed paladins of the Order of the Phoenix, whether it the paranoid Mad-Eye Moody, the playful Sirius Black, or the pensive Remus Lupin.

At certain points, they even developed a backlog of locations and relics to find, with only the innermost circle of paladins being delegated to lead the search parties. Some hiding places proved to be much more dangerous than even what Harry and Tom had encountered, requiring the strength of a group of paladins and crusaders to fight off. Most often, dark and power magics guarded them, if not dark wizards and witches who worked for the Kingdom of Darkness itself. 

As more artifacts were recovered, a noticeable increase in the difficulty of each mission took place. The Order of the Phoenix speculated that Grindelwald was becoming aware that the artifacts were being found, even if he didn’t exactly know how the Kingdom of Light was finding them. It was decided early on that Harry’s role in everything would remain secret, lest any danger come to him unbiddenly.

That didn’t stop a few brazen paladins who were in the know, including Cedric Diggory and Oliver Wood, from asking him to accompany their parties on their own quests, however-- something about Harry tagging along for good luck, as the Lord’s chosen prophet. Harry, who had only ever been from Godric’s Hollow to Hogwarts, couldn’t resist temptation and accompanied a handful of the requests he received, each quest lasting roughly a fortnight. 

Today, he had just returned from one of such quests, exhausted out of his wits. He, Sirius Black, and a group of green paladins, who’d never practiced using their swords on anything other than training dummies, took down a basilisk in pursuit of Godric Gryffindor’s sword. It was the first chance Harry had actually had to use his magic in combat, once he’d gotten over the initial embarrassment, and it felt great to actually contribute beyond just what God had given him. Despite his vision somehow leaving out the fact that a basilisk lurked near, they escaped with no casualties, with only one poor, petrified soul who happened to lock eyes with the basilisk through a reflection in a puddle.

His muscles ached from all the running he’d done that day, but the sensation was more pleasant than anything. As he laid back in his bed back at Hogwarts castle, Harry couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. So much had changed in such a short time, all for the better in his life. Before, he had felt obliged to stay in Godric’s Hollow for the rest of his life, but today, he was directly helping the Kingdom of Light fight the holy war, following God’s path for him, learning things he had never before dreamed of. Life was almost perfect. 

He exhaled a bit of air from his nose at that though, recalling his first conversation with King Dumbledore. Almost perfect, but nothing in life was perfect. And if he ever found himself thinking completely candidly with himself, he knew what might make it perfect.

Two moons ago was the last time he’d seen or spoken to Tom Riddle, Brother of the Hogwarts Grand Cathedral. It had been easy to pour all his focus into helping the paladins or studying magic on his own. And it was true, those things did make him happy, but also knew what he was purposefully avoiding: acknowledging the sinful feelings and thoughts he had of a man of the church. It was easy to just ignore them and hope they would disintegrate over time.

However, time alone allowed for contemplation, and one thing had always nagged at the back of his mind. What if things were different? All those small actions he’d rationalized as not being indications of reciprocation-- what if he was wrong? This uncertainty and doubt, it was the opposite of the pure faith and absolution he found in religion. The duality of man and God was always such-- doubt and faith. But where the two ultimately met was with hope, and God did he hope and desire things were the way he wished--

His train of thought made him laugh at the sheer absurdity of it, the sheer blasphemy of using faith to justify his lustful thoughts. Surprisingly enough though, he didn’t find himself as guilty as he had been when he’d first met Tom. 

Maybe, just maybe, it was time to pay Tom a long overdue visit to absolve himself of any remaining guilt. Maybe it might lead to something, maybe it wouldn’t, but he might be able to feel a bit freer and at ease with himself, once he’d confessed how he felt. 

Tomorrow, he thought, closing his eyes as exhaustion finally pulled him to sleep with its dark tendrils.

* * *

All was dark when he opened his eyes next. The darkness was suffocating, but a single light glowed within it, a beacon in the night. It illuminated a dark stone, with a curious engraving on it-- a triangle with a circle inside of it, with a single vertical line within the circle. A magical rune? Harry didn’t know the meaning of it, but the fact he was seeing it now made it seem important. The stone had a squarish cut and was set in a filigreed golden band. 

He didn’t recognize it, oddly enough, but he couldn’t claim to know every single holy relic that may have ever existed. 

The light glowed marginally brighter, revealing where the ring was, and Harry’s body jolted at the sight. A skeletal finger had been slipped through the hole of the ring where it sat against the remains of someone long since deceased’s knuckles. His vision zoomed out, until the wood of a pine coffin appeared, dirt packed along all sides of it. Above, grass and flowers grew around a small, but lovingly cared for grave marker. Its inscription read “ _ Ariana Dumbledore, 1885-1899” _ .

Harry jerked awake in a hot sweat. That had to have been the most unsettling vision he’d had to date. From what he had seen, that could only mean someone from the Kingdom of Darkness had dug up the grave of the late Princess Ariana and defiled it by placing that ring on her. 

He’d always pitied the Kingdom of Darkness more than anything, but such an act seemed like a taunt more than anything. It made him almost angry that they’d do such a thing to something who couldn’t even fight back. And worst of all, to the king’s sister.

The princess’ burial location had been secret, for all Harry had known, to prevent such a thing from taking place. He doubted it could be in such a simple location that the Kingdom of Darkness would stumble upon it purely by chance. And any good citizen of the Kingdom of Light would, upon reading the name on that tombstone, forget they had ever seen it in respect of the king.

Harry laid in bed, shifting fretfully, too angry to will himself back to sleep. He got out of bed, praying an early, early morning walk would soothe his temper. He’d slipped on his slippers and hovered for a second near his door before an odd feeling prickled up the hair on the back of his neck. After a moment’s contemplation, he returned to his room and dressed himself properly, putting on his day boots and his wand in them for good measure. One couldn’t be too safe, after all.

He soon found himself standing in front of Dumbledore’s study, wondering if it was a good idea or not. He had no idea where the king’s quarters were, whether they were connected at all to his study, but there was no doubt they would be heavily guarded. Even now, the single guard standing by the study’s door was giving him the evil eye. Harry gulped as he knocked against the door softly. To his surprise it opened, a weary-eyed Dumbledore who looked to be in sleep clothes still.

“Good evening, Harry. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Harry could barely get the words out, suddenly speechless. He glanced toward the guard a few meters away, keeping his voice hushed so as to avoid them hearing. “I-- I saw her-- Princess Ariana’s… grave.”

His words hung in the air for a moment. King Dumbledore took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Harry gulped. “It was a ring. They… defiled her grave to put it with her.”

“I see,” said Dumbledore slowly. “Thank you for coming to me with this, Harry. I ask that you tell no one else of this vision of yours.” He turned to reenter his study.

“Your grace!” Harry exclaimed, a flurry of emotions inside him. “What-- what are you to do about it?”

King Dumbledore’s face was somber as he spoke. “What God wills me to, my boy. What I must.” 

He said nothing more before his image whirled in front of Harry, and suddenly, he was gone. Apparation, as Harry had learned over the weeks. The guard sighed from his post.

Confused and still disturbed, there Harry stood unsure what to do next. Maybe it had been presumptuous on his part to assume the king would have some words of wisdom for him once more. It seemed as though he had to come to terms with his emotions on his own, this time. Though maybe he didn’t necessarily need to be alone, he thought.

He left the king’s study and made his way aimlessly down the halls of the ground floor of Hogwarts castle. There would be guards posted at the main entry doors, and there was no way in hell, pardon his language, that they’d let him out at this time of day. So, Harry did what any respectable citizen would. He turned a corner away from the prying eyes of any guards and slipped out the window, nearly catching his tunic in the process. 


	4. The Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the smut is finally here, the moment you've all been waiting for. None of the dubious consent tags apply for this chapter, though they will apply to the final chapter.

The streets were silent as death as he walked to the grand cathedral. A full moon shone overhead, lighting his path. The air was pleasantly humid but still cool enough that Harry was grateful he hadn’t left his room in his nightclothes.

Over the half an hour it took to finally arrive at the cathedral, his anger had subsidized for the most part to be replaced with an overall sense of gloom.

He didn’t exactly have a plan for how he’d find Tom, besides searching amongst the brothers’ sleeping quarters and quietly waking him up without alerting anyone else-- hoping he wouldn’t be upset by being woken at four in the morning, hoping he’d be willing to chat with an old friend who just happened to have feelings for him, hoping he might also reciprocate those same feelings. Harry was, he realised, hoping for a lot and may have been setting himself up for failure from the start.

No, such a train of thought was what caused him to avoid Tom for the two months he’d been living at Hogwarts castle. No more of that, at least not today, thought Harry. No self-sabotage. 

Quietly, he tested the knob of the side door Tom had led him through the day they recovered the locket. It was unlocked, and so he slipped through, shutting it softly behind him.

The normally present candlelight from the chandeliers hanging above was snuffed. Only moonlight came through the stained glass windows. Harry quickly retraced his steps to where the cathedral’s sleeping quarters were, as quiet as a mouse, but one thing stopped him before opening the door. Footsteps sounded from the other side.

Harry silently bolted around a corner, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t see or hear him. He heard the door handle turn, ever so slowly opening, before shutting with a soft click. Someone was sneaking out. Harry could only pray they wouldn’t walk in his direction. He made himself as small as he could in the shadows, waiting for them to walk away.

They continued walking down the hallway with quiet, deliberate steps. Harry almost didn’t even dare to look, but when he did--

It had to be Tom, walking down the same cathedral hallway the same night Harry had snuck in to speak with him. His breath nearly left him as he saw the back of Tom’s head become smaller and smaller as he walked to the end of the hallway. He finally disappeared into the room at the end-- the same room, two months ago, where he had listened to Harry sing the gospel to him.

Harry followed after him, like a moth to a flame.

At the sound of the door shutting behind Harry, Tom’s eyes instantly met his. He stared for a moment, eyes wide in shock, before blinking several times as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing.

Harry cleared his throat. “I er-- hope I’m not interrupting anything.” 

Tom lowered his wand that had previously been raised. “Harry? What on earth are you doing here?”

His feet shifted. “I couldn’t sleep-- too much weighing on my mind. I felt as though I had to see you, but then I saw you were already up and followed you here.”

He hadn’t thought Tom’s expression could become any more bewildered, but he was proven wrong in an instant.

Tom looked between Harry and the door, gesturing for him to come in while also stepping forward. “Did anyone follow you? Does anyone know you’re here?”

Now it was Harry’s turn to be confused. “No? I didn’t see anyone-- I snuck out.”

That seemed to placate him for the moment. “Good, good.”

“What--”

But not for long. Tom quickly interrupted him. “I have little patience for any games you intend to play at this very moment, Harry. Why are you really here?” He still hadn’t put away his wand. His fingers twiddled with the object.

Harry frowned. “Why are you acting so…” Strange? Cold? On edge?

Something in Tom’s eyes shifted. He straightened his back and put his wand into his robe pocket, before stepping closer to Harry’s side. He put a guiding hand on Harry’s back. 

“Come, let us sit.” He nodded toward the pews.

Harry felt the urge to keep standing as a measure of defiance, but decided it would be a better idea to simply obey and sit with Tom, who still hadn’t removed his hand from his back.

“I apologize for my demeanor. I, too, have had a lot on my mind as of late, though it was unfair to project it onto you.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Why do you think I would play games with you? Have I ever been nothing but straight-forward with you?” 

Instantly, he regretted his words. Yes, he had, though Tom didn’t yet know it. After all, he had been hiding something from him for quite the time now. Was that what Tom had been referring to? Did he somehow know?

Before Tom had a chance to speak, Harry continued. “At times I haven’t been completely honest with myself… And perhaps that has influenced our interactions, but I never meant you any harm by it.”

Tom looked at him with something of exasperation and shook his head. “You flatter me so. Here you sit, thinking you are the one who has wronged me when it is I who has been duplicitous with you, Harry.” He let out a harsh, cynical laugh. “You think me such a pillar of virtue that you seek me out at random for support when you feel low. It feels as though no one thinks so highly of me as you. I fear you would never desire my company any longer if you knew the true depth of my sins.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “I… have had such thoughts of you too, Tom.”

His words seemed to surprise Tom. “You have?” He let his arm fall from Harry’s back. “I don’t understand.”

But Harry was beginning to. He looked down at his hands that laid in his lap. “I have shared your fears for many weeks now. The fear that I may lose your friendship if you discovered my… affection for you, among other, more sinful thoughts. I believed myself a heathen for even daring to think such a thing about a man of the church, devoted as he is to God. Never did I imagine you could ever reciprocate.”

Finally, he looked back up at Tom who stared at him in amazement. He didn’t speak for a moment, not until realisation finally overtook his features. A small smile came over Tom’s face, and he shook his head. “Dear, dear Harry,” he said softly, covering Harry’s hand with his. “ _ I _ would never think less of you for such a thing. I myself have thought and done much worse… especially when it comes to you.”

Harry’s face blushed at both the physical contact and Tom’s words, but he didn’t withdraw his hand. “I understand if nothing should happen as a result of this. Your continued friendship means enough to me. You are still, after all, a brother, and I am sure you have taken vows against fraternization--”

“I have done no such thing.” Tom raised an eyebrow amusedly. 

“Oh.” Harry blinked a few times, suddenly at a loss for how to respond. He honestly hadn’t thought he’d get this far.

Tom laced his fingers with Harry’s and leaned close into him. Their legs touched as they sat together on the pew. His eyes were heavy-lidded, a soft smirk across his face that made Harry’s heart beat faster in his chest. Tom’s breath was a soft whisper against Harry’s ear, one that sent shivers down his spine but made him warm elsewhere. “I want to show you something.”

He stood, pulling Harry to his feet next to him. His wand was in his hand the next moment, pointed at a decal of a cross against the stone walls. Then, he walked through the wall, guiding Harry behind him as if it wasn’t even there. 

Harry gasped as they seemingly fell into a hidden room, but Tom seemed unbothered as he sent another spark of magic toward the direction they had just come from. In the opposite direction was a long hall with the same type of stonework as the interior of the cathedral.

“This is a sealed off passageway I discovered a long time ago,” said Tom, turning with a self-satisfied look on his face. “No one should be able to intrude on us here. But first--” He licked his lips and took a step towards Harry.

Slowly, Harry leaned up towards him, standing on his tip-toes to reach Tom’s height. His eyes were drawn first to Tom’s lips, but then to his eyes, dark and hypnotic. He found himself leaning in until their lips were a hair’s breadth from each other, Tom’s breath warm against his. His eyes closed as their lips finally met, soft and precarious, eliciting a sigh from Harry.

A hand pressed against his back, gently but firmly holding him in place as if Tom was afraid he’d pull away. Its presence was soothing as Tom rubbed circles with it and as their lips moved slowly against one another.

It was Harry’s first kiss, and though nerves were present, the excited butterflies in his stomach won out first. He tilted his head to allow Tom better access to his lips. With a new sense of confidence, he decided to kiss Tom ever so slightly harder, to which Tom reciprocated.

The hand against his clothed back soon slipped under his shirt, touching hot against his skin. Harry wrapped his arms around Tom’s neck, and Tom pulled him even closer than he thought possible until they were chest to chest. Heat flushed in Harry’s cheeks, warm and heady, a pleasant sensation that crept down the rest of his body to the point where his clothes began to feel stifling. All he wanted was to get as close as possible to Tom in that moment.

As the passion in their kiss grew, no more did it remain closed mouth, and Harry felt the soft wetness of Tom’s tongue graze his lips every so often. Harry almost didn’t notice the shift, until Tom’s tongue slid against his own, and an unfamiliar heat stirred in his cock. Suddenly, he felt breathless and attempted to pull away, but Tom’s other hand moved to the back of his head for a moment, caging him in. Finally, Tom let go with a soft laugh underneath his also heavy breathing. 

Harry smiled, looking up under his lashes at Tom as he caught his breath. After only a moment’s reprieve, Tom pulled him close once more, arms around his waist, and kissed him deeply as if trying to devour him. Harry himself felt all too happy to be devoured.

He mumbled into Tom’s mouth incoherently. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me.”

“You underestimate my powers of deduction,” Tom muttered and grabbed Harry by the ass, pressing their lower halves together, causing Harry to realise Tom was as hard as he was. 

The friction between their clothed erections was pure bliss, the slow, rhythmic thrusting of Tom’s hips against his own. His hands ran up and down Harry’s body, and Harry blushed at the sensation of being manhandled. One of the hands momentarily disappeared from Harry to reach into Tom’s pocket and retrieve his wand.

A second later, Harry was tackled to the ground, and he braced himself for impact, only for it to never come. Soft cushions and blankets broke his fall, to caress him from either side, with Tom on top of him. Tom pressed his body against Harry’s and kissed him with a renewed vigor. His knee pressed against Harry’s cock, grinding pleasantly, but the sensation just wasn’t enough--

Tom laughed through their kiss as Harry squirmed in frustration. “Shall we rid ourselves of these unpleasant garments yet? Or is that too immodest for you?”

Harry covered his blushing face with the back of his hand and nodded.

Tom couldn’t help but  _ tsk _ at him affectionately. “Hiding yourself sends me the opposite message, you know. Perhaps you don’t truly want this, after all,” he sighed with a faux dramatism.

“Please, Tom,” Harry pleaded without a second thought, the very same hand he’d hidden behind now wrapping around Tom’s arm.

“That’s better.” 

Tom laid a small kiss on Harry’s neck before leaning back on his knees and lifting Harry’s tunic over his head. Harry sat up to assist with his endeavor, kicking off his boots. He shivered as cold air hit his skin, his nipples hardening. Tom smirked and ran his hands down Harry’s chest. One hand stopped at his right nipple, taking it between his fingers and rubbing ever so slightly. The touch caused Harry’s erection to throb even harder in his trousers, which Tom had begun to undo with his other hand.

Quickly, Harry found himself completely naked. His hard cock was now exposed for all to see, underneath Tom who still dressed in his robes, a fact that only served as a reminder of how questionable this act was. It led his hands to the corded belt holding Tom’s robes together. He eagerly fiddled with the belt, unsure as to how to undo it, but desperate to get Tom out of his robes.

Tom chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t want me to keep them on?” he whispered in Harry’s ear. “I’m sure I can still fuck you within an inch of your life even with this dreadful thing on. Or maybe it makes you feel dirty, hm? The poor, devout prophet being defiled by the nefarious brother?”

Harry looked down in shame. “You can keep it on if-- if you really want.”

“My, you continue to surprise me today, Harry. I didn’t know you had it in you,” said Tom with a grin. “But ask, and you shall receive. Who am I but a lowly servant of the Lord to say no, after all?”

He pulled out his wand from his robe pockets and pressed it to Harry’s arse, to the latter’s confusion.

“What are you--”

Instantaneously his muscles relaxed, his insides feeling wet and slick. His ass clenched involuntarily at the sensation, and his cock throbbed desperately in need of attention. Tom quickly tossed his wand to the side, before turning his attention back to Harry, and more importantly Harry’s cock.

He lowered himself to his elbows and kissed along Harry’s thighs. When Harry began to squirm, he took it upon himself to nip at him lightly as a warning to stay still. Agonizingly slowly, he made his way to the one place Harry ached the most. The first kiss he laid on Harry’s cock, wet and open-mouthed, made Harry gasp and shudder in sheer anticipation. One of Tom’s hands slid up Harry’s other thigh, a rogue finger tracing at his twitching hole. 

Tom finally licked up the side of Harry’s cock and slipped his finger inside of him. Both sensations were completely unfamiliar to Harry but felt beyond any description, leaving him breathing in slow, methodical breaths in wait for more. 

“Please,” he gasped out when Tom froze.

“Please what? I’m sorry but I don’t understand Harry, you’ll have to speak up,” said Tom, an undercurrent of amusement in his breath.

“Please, Tom, keep--” Harry struggled to get the words out as Tom slowly swirled his tongue against the shaft of his cock tormentingly-- “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Suddenly, Tom stopped, and Harry almost cried out in frustration. “Oh? What was I doing? You’ll have to explain in more detail.”

“I need your mouth on me--” As soon as the words left his mouth, his cock was engulfed in a tight, wet heat, and a moan ripped its way from Harry’s lips. His fingers clutched at Tom’s head, running through his soft, dark hair. He nearly felt himself peak, but held on with what little willpower he had left remaining.

Tom’s tongue flicked over the underside of the head causing Harry to moan out loud in pleasure. All the while, the finger inside him began thrusting in and out with a surprising fluidity. The walls of his ass clenched down on the finger tightly, desperate to feel more. Eventually, Tom added a second finger and Harry’s ass quickly accommodated the pleasant stretch. The friction almost reminded Harry of when the two had grinded their cocks together, but in reality, it felt much more like Tom was scratching an itch deep inside him that Harry never even knew he had. Tom scissored his fingers, testing the give of Harry’s ass, but whatever spell he’d performed earlier had already done most of the work involved in stretching him out already.

His other hand had come up to stroke Harry’s cock as he bobbed up and down the shaft, leaving Harry in a blissful state. His body felt so warm, and he caught himself wishing that this feeling would never end. He almost didn’t realise the insertion of a third finger inside him, already feeling pleasantly full. 

It didn’t stay inside him for long, however, as Tom slowly withdrew his fingers, leaving Harry feeling much more empty than he did before. He whined at the loss, to which Tom laughed, sending vibrations onto his dick.

He withdrew his mouth in an instant and untied the intricate knot on his woven belt that held his robes shut. Harry stared in anticipation as a sliver of pale skin became exposed, starting from Tom’s chest down to the thick erection lying between his hips. The image wasn’t one that he would have ever expected to see in his lifetime, the holy cloth being befouled by such a sexual sight, but it only served to excite him even more. Maybe if he had been of a clearer mind, he might have questioned himself more, but at the moment all he could focus on was  _ want _ .

Tom spit in his hand and stroked his cock with it, before nudging the head between Harry’s spread legs. He leaned down and whispered lowly in Harry’s ear. 

“Spread yourself open for me.”

Harry shivered at the command, but did the best he could, fingers pulling apart his cheeks in preparation for Tom’s cock. It was hot, prodding at Harry’s hole, before it eventually slipped in with a small amount of force. Once the head was in, the rest of Tom’s cock slid in easily, filling Harry’s ass until it reached the hilt. 

Harry released a shallow breath. “God, you’re so--” 

“I don’t think now is the time to be invoking God’s name, darling,” said Tom who had stilled, allowing time for Harry to adjust. “I want all your attention on me-- nothing else, do you hear me?” He stared at Harry with an intense, dark look in his eyes. 

Harry nodded, mouth agape.

Tom slowly started moving his hips, and Harry’s eyes closed as he moaned in pleasure, but Tom soon stopped again. “Look at me as I take you, Harry. Know it’s only me who could ever make you feel this way.”

Harry reluctantly opened his eyes and stared into Tom’s, body and face feverish with both pleasure and embarrassment. He felt completely and utterly exposed in that moment under Tom’s gaze, and there would be nowhere to hide even if he wanted to-- but right now, he didn’t.

At first, it merely felt as though Tom was grinding against him, but as he quickened to a casual pace, his cock began slipping in and out of Harry, dragging at his walls. Harry wanted to close his eyes and take in the pleasure, but was quickly reminded of Tom’s request when he was foolish enough to forget to maintain eye contact. Keeping their gazes locked made the act feel so much dirtier, but also intimate in an odd way. There was no escape from Tom’s impenetrable stare that seemed to see through Harry’s very soul. Never before had he ever felt so  _ seen _ .

Tom leaned closed until they were chest to chest, and Harry’s arms and legs wrapped around Tom’s back and waist in a desperate effort to get him as close as possible, to get his cock somehow deeper inside him than it already was. Tom thrust pointedly harder now, and his cock began to brush against an all-too-sweet spot within Harry that made his eyes almost roll to the back of his head. He couldn’t keep the moans from spilling from his lips if he’d even tried, a fact that caused his face to flush even harder--

Harder and harder, Tom thrust his cock into Harry, his own breathing becoming as labored as Harry’s, sweat dewing on his chest. His black robes were soft against Harry’s skin, and the mere sight caused his cock to twitch against his stomach, desperate for release.

But then suddenly, Tom stopped, his eyes looking to the side, and Harry felt as though he would die if he couldn’t come soon.

“Tom, please,” he all but sobbed.

“Shh-” He pressed a hand to Harry’s mouth, silencing him. Tom’s eyes moved back to Harry for a brief moment, before his head turned to look behind himself. His voice was a whisper. “Do you hear that?”

Harry stilled beneath him, listening hard. 

Beyond the sound of their hurried breaths, he did hear something, faintly. He couldn’t place what it was, however, until he heard the singing. The organ in the other room was being played, a chorus of voices singing some muffled song from the other side of the stone wall. But that couldn’t be, it was much too late in the night, or perhaps too early in the morning, for such a procession to occur. It didn’t make sense--

Tom removed his hand from Harry’s mouth as Harry looked at him with panic and began squirming. “They can’t hear us from in here,” he said, beginning to thrust inside Harry again. He held him by the hips to keep him in place. “Don’t let such a silly thing stop us now, Harry.” He leaned in close, staring at him with half-lidded eyes. “I fully intend to thoroughly wreck you whether or not the church would approve.”

At this point, Harry’s whole body felt like jelly, his muscles weak and body feverish with the only thing he could focus on being the feeling of Tom withdrawing his cock from his arse. Soon, he found himself flipped over and facedown on the pile of blankets Tom had summoned. Tom grabbed him by the hips until his ass was up, and he was on his knees, when Harry felt Tom’s cock enter him once more. He exhaled a sigh of relief at being filled again, while also being grateful for being able to hide his face once more in the blankets.

Tom gripped his hips tightly, thrusting hard and deep into him at a punishing pace that soon overwhelmed Harry. His mind became a mush. All that mattered at that moment was how amazing everything felt, Tom’s warmth around him from all angles, pummelling his prostate, the sound of Harry’s moans and Tom’s heavy pants and the slap of his balls against Harry’s ass and the organ and the choir in the background, as if the church itself was singing its praises for their sinful coupling in the Lord’s house--

Tom pressed his chest close to Harry’s back, wrapping his arms around him while continuing to thrust. Harry fell under Tom’s weight, unable to hold himself up on his elbows any longer, until he was pressed between Tom and the blankets beneath him. His cock rutted against a haphazardly shifted pillow, bringing him ever and ever so close to completion.

His breath was heavy in Harry’s ear. “How could something so beautiful, so euphoric be a sin, Harry? Why not just feel for once, rather than carry all the world’s troubles on your back?” He panted as his thrusts quickened, and Harry moaned. “Let yourself become one with sin-- just once, let yourself be corrupted. This is all it takes, letting me take you right here, right now--”

His words sent Harry over the edge, his muscles spasming, ass clenching, the pleasure at its absolute peak. He moaned as his release spilled out of his cock in several spurts, his whole body from head to toe tingling. Tom kept fucking into Harry’s ass throughout the event, pressing him into the floor and thrusting harder and harder until he too came moments later with a long groan. Harry instantly felt his come, warm and wet, trickle out slightly, though Tom kept his cock inside him. 

There Harry laid, Tom warm and heavy atop him, nuzzling his neck, enjoying the feeling of fullness he maintained until Tom’s cock softened and pulled out of him. His mind remained fuzzy in his post-orgasm haze. He let himself be turned onto his side and allowed himself to be spooned while mumbling incoherencies. 

Tom rubbed circles along his legs, thighs, hips while kissing the back of his neck. “Sleep, Harry,” he said low. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Harry let himself fade and slowly slip out of consciousness.


	5. The Rapture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Dubious consent, overall dark themes, mind control, and imprisonment.

When Harry woke, eyes groggy, body placidly sore, it took him a moment to discern his surroundings. He hadn’t woken in his bed at Hogwarts castle. He also hadn’t woken in the sleeping quarters of the church or in his bed back home in Godric’s Hollow.

He was still in a bed, however, unrecognizable as it was. His head rested atop black, satin pillows with similar sheets underneath, an emerald quilt on the bed that was rather warm. Dark wood furniture lined the walls, including numerous bookcases filled to the brim, along with a neatly organized desk and a wardrobe amongst other things. 

Harry rubbed at his eyes in confusion, before turning to the bedside table by habit in search of his glasses. Oddly enough, there they were, along with his wand which he last remembered putting in his boots--

Tom. Harry had fallen asleep after they had… He couldn’t even think it without blushing, the soft ache of his body a reminder of what they had done. Presumably, Tom had taken him back here, wherever ‘here _ ’  _ was, and been the one to put Harry’s things on the table. That probably meant the rest of his clothes were somewhere else around the room.

He put his glasses on, grabbed his wand, and wrapped the quilt around himself as he stood up from the bed with shaky legs. He tried the doorknob of the room, just to see if he could discern where he was with a quick glance out, but it seemed as though it was locked from the outside. Odd. If Harry really cared, he might have considered trying a basic unlocking charm. Instead, he chose to wander around the room.

The bookshelves were stacked full of tomes Harry could only guess by the titles were primarily focused on magic. He knew Tom was a wizard, sure, but he never thought he was that preoccupied with magic as a brother of the church. In fact, there were scant few texts of any religious origin as far as he could see-- a few history books, here and there. He made his way over to what he presumed was Tom’s desk.

A few more tomes were neatly stacked in the corner. All seemed related to magic, and oddly enough, dreams. A scroll of parchment and a quill lay in the center of the desk, but when Harry went to read it, he soon discovered the entirety of the scroll to be written in some foreign language, or perhaps short-hand.

Harry sighed and was just about to return back to bed when he heard faint voices come from the other side of the wall. He pressed his ear to the door.

“--a blatant disregard for both your orders and your rank.”

“The king would seem to disagree with you.” Harry recognized that voice as Tom’s. He didn’t understand what they were talking about, however. What did King Dumbledore disagree with? 

He quickly blanched as he considered the possibility that he and Tom had been caught in some type of compromising position and found out.

The other voice continued. “Fuck the king. He cares only for his petulant squabbles from an era long since passed. He--”

Tom’s voice spoke once more. Harry could almost hear the smugness in his tone through the door. “Respectfully, sir, you just have not been clued into the bigger picture. Now, I must take my leave. I have other things of a much greater importance that I must attend to.”

The other person huffed. “Just know this, Riddle. Your days here are numbered if you don’t learn to respect your betters. No one’s above the rules, least of all you, and any attempts at mutiny will leave you sorry.” 

Footsteps trailed down what Harry presumed was a hall, fading until silent. The doorknob began to rattle. Harry quickly jumped back into bed, but didn’t have enough time to feign sleep.

Tom entered the room in an unfamiliar manner of dress, dark trousers and a doublet vest over a white, long-sleeved shirt. Where were his brother’s robes? “Didn’t your parents teach you eavesdropping is impolite, dear Harry?”

Harry recoiled slightly on impulse. No, it hadn’t been meant to be as stinging as it was. Tom didn’t know Harry was an orphan, after all. He tried to laugh it off. “Well, having dead parents doesn’t lend itself very much to that, does it?”

Tom paused thoughtfully. “Indeed it does not. Though I imagine you are quite curious as to where we are at the moment, me having whisked you away in the night to an unfamiliar place.” He looked dreadfully amused at his own words, serving to only confuse Harry more.

“Yes, actually, I--” he stopped, watching what Tom was doing.

Tom approached the bed and kicked off his boots by the bedside table. Then, he slung a leg around one side of Harry’s waist, sitting on his lap. He stared at Harry with a self-satisfied look in his eyes, the corners of his mouth upturned in a slight smirk.

“Where are we? What’s going on exactly?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with anymore, Harry,” Tom said, pinning down Harry’s hands on the bed and kissing up his neck.

A nervous laugh forced its way out of Harry’s mouth without his consent. An odd flutter of anxiety stirred in his stomach. “What do you mean?”

Tom scraped his teeth lightly against Harry’s neck, causing his dick to twitch slightly. “Shh-- don’t think. Just let me take care of you.”

It was tempting, really it was, with Tom grinding softly against him through his strange clothes in this strange room, laving kisses against him. His body seemed to remember all too well what Tom had done to him the night before-- was it the night before? The morning before? How many hours had passed since he’d fallen asleep, since they’d first had sex in that hidden nook of the cathedral?

Though his body was responding to Tom’s touch, his mind felt a little too ill at ease to simply let it drop. “Tom--”

Tom’s lips pressed against Harry’s in a silencing motion. He ripped the blanket away from Harry’s naked body and covered him with his own. Harry squirmed as Tom held him down and kissed him, before finally kissing back. The feel of Tom’s plush lips, dominating and forceful against his own, sent a wave of liquid heat down his spine, and he knew Tom could feel his erection grinding up against him at that very moment.

They still had things to discuss, but it wouldn’t hurt to give in to temptation for a small bit now, would it? At least, that was his excuse as he let himself get snogged, let his body get felt up, his nipples teased, his cock stroked, and his ass stretched before eventually, Tom was fucking into him once again, his trousers around his ankles, and it felt just as amazing as the first time. He let Tom take care of him in that moment.

He closed his eyes, his arms wrapped around Tom’s back, and just  _ felt _ as Tom’s dick thrust in and out of him, as if he couldn’t fuck Harry hard enough. His ass clenched every so often around Tom, causing him to moan uninhibitedly, a delightful sound to Harry’s ears. He opened his eyes to stare at Tom, his dark hair perfectly tousled, sweat slightly dripping from his forehead, skin flushed, his eyes dark with lust, the stone ceiling above them--

The same type of stonework he’d seen all throughout the cathedral. They were still in the grand cathedral, somewhere. His body tensed subtly, but that was all it took for Tom to realise a change in Harry’s demeanor.

“Where do you think we are, Harry? I really want to hear your best guess,” he breathed heavily into Harry’s ear, the head of his cock pounding at his prostate, making Harry see stars. 

Still, he tried to focus his mind. Why would he ask him like that-- as if he wouldn’t be right, somehow? Why would Tom have a bedroom in the church, full of earthly belongings that brothers no doubt would have had to give up? Was it in the secret passage he’d shown him earlier? But if that was the case, who had he been talking to earlier?  _ What  _ had they been talking about?

Tom bared his teeth in an imitation of a smile. “I can see every thought going through that pretty little head of yours, darling. Something tells me you’ll never figure it out unless I spell it out directly to you.”

Still, he continued to thrust into Harry, holding him down by his wrists.

“A grave. A ring.”

Harry felt like he’d been doused with a bucket of cold water, eyes widening and a deep knot forming within the depths of his chest. No, there was no way, how could he know--

“You really think your so-proclaimed ‘God’ chose you? No, Harry.  _ I  _ chose you,” Tom said forcefully. “But if you want to get down on your knees and worship me, well, you know I’d let you.” 

Harry tried to wrench his arms out of Tom’s grasp, squirming and struggling, trying to push him off, but it was difficult with the man putting all his weight on him. He thrashed his legs, twisting and turning every which way.

Tom only laughed at his attempts to struggle, still pounding into his ass like nothing had changed. “But you know what? I never imagined that the chaste little choir boy I picked out in Godric’s Hollow would come to me, months later, proclaiming his lust for me and turn out to be such a little slut for my cock. You really did surprise me, Harry. Maybe you aren’t as pure as you thought you were.”

Harry’s body soon tired from his fruitless struggling, causing him to lay limp beneath Tom once more. Tom removed one of his hands from Harry’s wrists and pinched one of his nipples harshly. Harry squirmed around Tom’s cock, panting, an act that only seemed to turn Tom on more.

“But that’s how it always is, isn’t it.” He didn’t say it like it was a question. “Your lot can’t dig your heads out of the sand until you personally are a sinner, but then there’s always an excuse. The truth is you’re no better than me, darling. You’ve damned your so-called Kingdom of Light more with your ‘visions’ than you ever would have if you’d just kept that pretty little mouth shut.”

He forced two fingers past Harry’s lips in an unexpected motion. Harry gagged on them, trying to bite at the fingers. Tom quickly withdrew them and wiped the spit on Harry’s face. An awful grin split his own face, and his arm wrapped around Harry’s shoulder, holding him close. He thrust hard and fast into Harry’s aching ass, leaving the smaller boy clenching and holding on for what felt like dear life.

Tom had a wild look in his eyes now, one glinting with sadism and amusement, his voice mocking. “Perhaps if God were real, he might have sent his prophet a vision that the ever esteemed King Dumbledore finally met his end during your little nap here. Oh, but where is here?” he asked rhetorically, before laughing and answering his question himself. “Well, I’m glad you asked, Harry. Welcome to the Kingdom of Darkness, lying directly underneath the Kingdom of Light’s feet since the beginning of time. Just goes to show how well they bloody damn looked. Though that won’t be the case for long. Why, with your help with leading Dumbledore into our trap, nothing else remains to stop King Grindelwald from destroying the Kingdom of Light once and for all.”

“You-- you can’t destroy those relics--”

Tom’s manic expression dropped, turning into one of annoyance more than anything at Harry’s stilted argument. His hips froze and he stopped thrusting into Harry, who was relieved to finally have a reprieve for his sore arse. 

“Forget those dreadful things. No one cares about those anymore. My personal project implanting those dreams into your mind proved to Grindelwald that perfect, unperceivable mind control is possible under the right conditions. With his skill, he may perform it upon the entire Kingdom of Light en-masse, and the idea that a God exists will become laughable to even the most devout.”

Tom glared at Harry’s softening cock and took it into his hand with a smirk. His grip was so firm, Harry’s dick chafed at the friction, but a part of it hurt so  _ good _ and the organ soon filled with blood once more.

“But you know what?” Tom asked, voice a low whisper. 

Once again, he was fucking into Harry who was cross-eyed and speechless in both pleasure, pain, and emotional turmoil. The tears that had welled in his eyes began to drip hot like candle wax down his cheeks.

“I think I’ll keep your mind the way it is. After all, you’ve come to put your faith in me these past months without any need for mind control. I only sent you those dreams, after all, not these dark, sinful feelings you’ve developed for me. Those, dear Harry, are entirely of your own making. And I’d be ever so sad if they were to disappear.”

Tom’s hand jerked him off at an overwhelming pace. Harry didn’t want to come, to give him the satisfaction of knowing he brought him to orgasm  _ again _ , while parading these perverse claims in his ear, fucking him and getting off on the entire situation.

But Harry was weak. He was weak and a sinner and a heathen and a heretic for even visiting Tom that night, and now he was paying the price. And so, he reached his peak with the strongest orgasm he’d ever experienced in his life. Drops of come landed on his chin with the force with which he came, his muscles aching from the strain. His ass clenched down hard on Tom’s cock as Tom’s own seed spilled inside him, leaving him a debauched mess sprawled across the bed. His eyes glazed over as he continued to stare at the stone ceiling, Tom laying next to him.

His body was as weak as his mind in that moment, limbs tired from being so thoroughly fucked. He didn’t want to struggle anymore. He just wanted to lay back and curl into a ball and sob at what he’d just learned. Everything was all his fault, it seemed. How could he have been so blind? Was there any way he could have known?

His eyes flickered to Tom, who laid with his arms behind his head, eyes low, relaxed, and fixated on Harry. 

A sickly sweet smile broke across his face when he saw Harry looking at him. “You look like someone who has watched his whole world just collapse around him. What an absolutely irresistible expression.”

He moved closer toward Harry and attempted to sling an arm around him. Harry struggled, trying to put a distance between them, but was eventually pushed to the edge of the bed. His choices were either let Tom grab him, cuddle him, or whatever the man wanted, or fall to the floor.

And so Harry let gravity take him, as gracefully as a cat on its final life. Tom sighed from the bed but didn’t move to help him up or see if he was okay. Harry needed to get out of here. If what everything Tom said was true, then he had to do something before it was too late. He didn’t know what that was exactly, but  _ something _ .

His wand. It was still on the bedside table. He jerked to grab it, but Tom’s hand caught his before he even finished the movement.

“And here I thought you were less predictable than that, Harry. You disappoint me,” he said with mock sadness. “Don’t you know that was the reason I decided to keep you in the first place? What do you think might happen if you can no longer entertain me?”

Harry gulped. “You won’t kill me. You-- you’ve already had the chance to, but you didn’t.” Though death might have been a greater mercy than being left alive, in this scenario.

Harry wondered why Tom hadn’t just let him die in that cave that one morning, so long ago. He had been so close to drowning, but Tom had saved him. Maybe it had been because whatever plan he had concocted wasn’t finished, or he needed Harry to drag him back to civilization after ingesting that potion. Those were all reasons logical enough in their own right, surely. But when it had happened, he had been so grateful, so infatuated with Tom’s heroism. Maybe that was when the beginnings of his lustful feelings had taken root. Over time, he’d allowed them to mature until they bore the poisonous fruit called sin. And like Eve, he’d taken a bite.

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t sound so sure about that. Let me make it absolutely clear. You’re mine now-- my responsibility, my single allowed  _ indulgence _ as a reward for a job well done. Otherwise, you’d be out there with everyone else getting their minds rearranged to fit King Grindelwald’s image of a perfect society. Only those already loyal to him are to be spared, with the single exception of you. But if you don’t behave, I may not be the worst punishment lying on the other side.”

Tom yanked Harry up by the arm until they were face to face, him leaning over Harry who knelt on the floor. “It doesn’t all have to be doom and gloom, however. I plan to take great delight in further corrupting both your body and mind in the coming days, weeks, months-- perhaps longer, if you’re so lucky. Maybe you’ll come to see the errors in your judgment and beliefs without any tampering on my or Grindelwald’s part. 

“After all, you’ve already become such a sinner all on your own.”

An intrusive voice whispered at the back of Harry’s mind, conspiratorially.  _ Maybe I have been one this whole time _ .

* * *

_ “Great heart of my own heart, whatever befall, _

_ Still be thou my vision, O ruler of all.” _


End file.
